


Is It a Sin If It's a Secret?

by piraterhino



Series: Dirt and Sin and Lies [2]
Category: Narcos (TV)
Genre: M/M, Steve's Pov
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-27
Updated: 2021-01-27
Packaged: 2021-03-13 14:48:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29030439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/piraterhino/pseuds/piraterhino
Summary: I was always noticing shit I shouldn’t, my dad used to tell me, eyes dark but proud. It’s what made me a good cop. A damn good agent. A bad enemy to have. A fucking hazard to myself, when it came to Javier Peña.
Relationships: Steve Murphy/Javier Peña
Series: Dirt and Sin and Lies [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2129520
Comments: 8
Kudos: 33





	Is It a Sin If It's a Secret?

It was late, and it was paperwork, and one clean glass between us, mouthfuls of terrible whiskey, and worse theories about who knew what, and the fucking forms they wanted, like paperwork mattered when Pablo was painting the streets red with Colombian’s blood.

“Gotta get reimbursed,” Javi reminded, tone chiding while his long blunt fingers swirled the whiskey around like it was nice bourbon.

It made me laugh, and maybe a little less miserable, and Javi stood, stretching tall and shameless like there was somebody to notice the butter yellow shirt stretched over his lean belly, tucked into the jeans painting his narrow hips, and winged a dark eyebrow.

“But it can wait.”

He licked his lips, and I realized… I was noticing.

\--

I was always noticing shit I shouldn’t, my dad used to tell me, eyes dark but proud. It’s what made me a good cop. A damn good agent. A bad enemy to have. A fucking hazard to myself, when it came to Javier Peña.

I’d noticed other men before. Knew it wasn’t right. Wasn’t good. Knew what happened to faggots in West Virginia and Tennessee and Miami. So I noticed women, too. Noticed Connie, for damn sure. And she was everything I was supposed to be staring at, and it was _so good_ to be blinded by her. To have her hand in mine as we walked into Colombia, to notice her mornings, the curves of her hips, how she burnt toast when she danced in the kitchen, and the first time Javi asked me if I’d had an… encounter, I’d sure as shit noticed his little eyeroll when I told him I was married.

Noticed it didn’t seem to matter that much to men in Bogota. But it had mattered to me. Maybe a little too much, maybe something I gripped a little too tightly for it not to slip through my fingers.

Javi was… Javi was safe, I’d thought. An asshole, a womanizer, a man who fucked his CI’s, a Mexican-American, machismo and testosterone-fueled, red-blooded man.

A man.

Mouth and eyes always moving, always calculating, blending in, and speaking Spanish all the _fucking_ time, like I couldn’t hear the _gringo_ drop when he was talking about me. Javi was… Javi was fucking _Javi_ , man. Long legs eating up the ground we covered, still not as tall as me, but… solid, maybe the only solid thing in Bogotá. I don’t even remember when Peña became Javier became Javi. I just liked the way it felt in my mouth to say it.

Like an exhale of smoke.

Like a sin you couldn’t confess, or maybe couldn’t regret.

Like something you breathed into the bend of your elbow when you jerked off in the shower, letting the steam carry it away.

Javi.

_Javi_.

It was gonna be a problem.


End file.
